


Kitten Song

by Sunnybone



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Glenn lives Because I Said So, Humor, Multi, Rated T for swears, Soulmates, background Leogrid, background Mercidue, because Sylvain, very light angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:29:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23122519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunnybone/pseuds/Sunnybone
Summary: While your soulmate is listening to music, you can hear it, too; Sylvain is going to use his soulmate's obsession with songs about Swamp Beasties and Kittens and Crumbs and Yums to hunt them down.A Sylvix soulmate AU based on a prompt fromthe prompt generator
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 53
Kudos: 635
Collections: Sylvix Squad Super Stories





	Kitten Song

**Author's Note:**

> I tweaked a prompt from [the prompt generator](https://prompts.neocities.org/) that was basically "if your soulmate listens to music it gets stuck in your head until they stop" and wound up with this, because Felix is Annette's Captive, and now So Is Sylvain.

Sylvain pounds on his roommate Ingrid’s door, totally disregarding the fact that it is three thirty-four in the morning.

“It is 3:34 AM, Sylvain, you had better be fucking _dying_ ,” Ingrid grumbles when she cracks open the door, but Sylvain doesn’t care about the glare she’s leveling at him. He can’t care, he’s riding a joyous high.

“I found her.”

Ingrid rubs at an eye, blinded by Sylvain’s beaming smile and also the hallway light because _it’s three in the damn morning_. “What?”

“I _found her_ ,” he repeats, and when Ingrid still doesn’t pluck understanding out of thin air, he adds, “I found Crumbs and Yums Girl.”

“Huh? Oh!” Ingrid seems slightly more awake and slightly less like she wants to hit Sylvain for waking her up like this. “How?”

“I found her soundcloud! It’s tiny and she doesn’t have some of her better songs on there—”

“Her _better_ songs?” Ingrid asks, eyebrows rising. “I thought you were sick of hearing about Bog Nasties every morning while your soulmate does... whatever they do.”

“First, it’s _Swamp Beasties_ , not Bog Nasties, I know I’ve mentioned it often enough you could at least pretend to pay attention,” and here Ingrid rolls her eyes, “and second, she doesn’t even have Swordboy or Kitten Song on there. Kitten Song is Top Tier.”

“Kitten Song.”

“It’s a banger! Anyways, found her soundcloud, but this is the best thing that could have happened. If she’s missing those songs, how is my soulmate listening to them, hm? She doesn’t seem to have any other music sites—I checked—so like. Soulmate’s gotta be getting them from the source.”

“Or maybe Kitten Song _is_ your soulmate,” Ingrid says, now leaning against her door frame with arms crossed. Sylvain shakes his head, crosses his arms, too, and holds his chin thoughtfully.

“Nah, I don’t think so. I mean, maybe? She seems cute enough from her profile pic, but I didn’t like, _feel lightning strike_ or anything when I saw her. That’s how it should feel, right?” Ingrid looks thoughtful and then shrugs.

“I didn’t meet Leonie through a photo on the internet, so I have no idea. Maybe you have to see her in person to connect? Anyways, is finding her soundcloud going to help you actually get in touch with her?”

“I left a comment on her profile with a burner email, so, fingers crossed!”

“Right, good luck. Now can I go back to sleep, or…?”

“Oh, yeah, shit,” Sylvain says with a laugh, as if he has only just realized it’s almost four in the morning. He glances at his watch—he _has_ only just realized it is almost four in the morning. “Fuck, I have work in like three hours. Sorry, sorry, go back to bed,” he adds, waving a hand at her as he turns towards his own room, and it’s really only the fact that _Ingrid_ also has work in three hours that keeps her from putting him in a headlock.

+

Annette blinks at the comment under her top track, slides her eyes slowly to the profile picture of a handsome redheaded guy in sunglasses, glances at the username—SwampBeastie—and then the timestamp for the comment, right at the part where she had gotten adventurous in writing and held a long note.

Her eyes make their way back to the comment itself.

**This song is great, loved this part, you really branched out on this one. Really glad I finally found your soundcloud, but I’m kinda bummed you don’t have Kitten Song or Swordboy on here, they slap! They get stuck in my head all the time, if you know what I mean. 😉 I’m pretty sure my soulmate is also your biggest fan. If you wanna get in touch about those songs, hit me up at SwampBeastie@yahoo!!**

Kitten Song? Swordboy? Annette thinks for a moment, she doesn’t have songs with those titles—what kind of title is _Swordboy_ — 

**I’m pretty sure my soulmate is also your biggest fan.**

She wrote a song about kittens for Felix for his birthday. She wrote a song _about Felix_ for Felix for Christmas.

**I’m pretty sure my soulmate is also your biggest fan.**

Annette shrieks and fumbles her phone.

\+ 

Sylvain can’t check his phone while he’s working, and the only thing that keeps him from vibrating with excitement all day is singing some of Fantine’s songs with the kids; preschoolers like kittens, the lyrics are simple enough, and it’s cute to watch them make up little dances. It doesn’t take his mind off of it, but it soothes a little of the anxious itch.

Just like everyone else, Sylvain’s been hearing his soulmate’s music choices for most of his life. He’s sure his soulmate has had to deal with Sylvain’s own emo phase—which, to be honest, wasn’t a _phase_ , no one really has an emo _phase_ —just as much as Sylvain’d had to deal with the Taylor Swift revolution that hit his soulmate some time in the middle of Sylvain’s freshman year of high school.

They’ve never met, but it was simple enough to get into a routine—mornings his soulmate rises early and listens to music for an hour, usually Fantine’s songs, and then a few hours of silence that Sylvain might fill with his own choices. He has a pretty good grasp on his soulmate’s tastes, he thinks, but Sylvain tends towards instrumental during the day. He knows how frustrating it can be, trying to concentrate on work or school when your soulmate is blaring lyrics into your skull, and he _tries_ to be polite about it—his soulmate has good _taste_ , just poor timing sometimes. 

When he had finally gotten his job at the preschool, Sylvain had been just slightly worried that all the nursery rhymes and children’s ditties might piss them off—he knew what pissed off sounded like, because there had been times when his soulmate started up something loud and awful that clashed against whatever _Sylvain_ was listening to, until he stopped—but. It hadn’t happened. Maybe they understood that he wasn’t just listening to songs about Tying Your Shoes or Using The Potty or How To Share for shits-and-giggles.

And besides, if they _had_ kicked up an aural fuss, Sylvain knows how to hit back with grating music until _they_ stop, too. 

But they have worked into a routine, blocks of time when they switch off, stretches of silence and song that denote activities. Maybe his soulmate works out? Maybe now his soulmate is driving home from work, maybe now his soulmate is eating lunch in a cafe, now his soulmate might be showering before bed.

They’ve never met, and Sylvain thinks his soulmate might prefer it that way, because they don’t seem to be seeking him out the way he’s seeking them.

There are way more obvious ways to go about it, companies that specialize in writing you a personalized song you can broadcast into your soulmate’s brain via your own ears, telling them who you are and how to find you. Sylvain thinks it’s kind of cheap, almost like cheating, and pushy besides. There are plenty of songs out there for communicating with your soulmate, from simple things like morning greetings to letting them know you’re too busy for Soulmate Radio, and Sylvain’s soulmate has never used _any_ of them. 

And he doesn’t blame them, it’s not like everyone finds their soulmate and settles down in happy eternal bliss. Soulmates are still humans, and humans still fuck things up. It’s not even guaranteed you Fall In Love, with all that sappy romance movie shit, and Sylvain wouldn’t be surprised at all if his soulmate was one of the platonic ones; he’s always been shit at dating, anyways. Sylvain hadn’t been particularly worried about finding his soulmate until Ingrid had met Leonie.

The whole… seeing your best friend ridiculously happy and in love thing had gotten him interested; what had won him over entirely was seeing how _comfortable_ they were with each other.

More than the fairy tale possibility of True Love, Sylvain craves the connection, the feeling of being known, completely, and _accepted_ by someone. It’s not guaranteed, but it’s a possibility he’s willing to chase.

So he’s been going about it in his own way, hunting down his soulmate’s weird favorite via a combination of lyrics-posting and subreddit crawls. Fantine’s soundcloud is so small it’s practically a miracle someone pointed him towards it, and honestly Sylvain’s this close to sending reddit user Baked4TheGoddess real actual money to thank them. 

Sylvain just hopes Fantine keeps an eye on her account. Does soundcloud notify you when someone comments on your songs? He really hopes so.

At the end of the day, when the last of his precious angels has been bundled off with a parent, he sighs with relief at Mercie as they clean up. He has a smear of jelly from snack time across the front of his apron and she’s got a collection of haphazard braids and clips in her hair, and really their Precious Angels are Terrible Little Gremlins but he still loves his job. Like, sure, there’s jelly on him, but he also has two newly gifted finger-paintings of cats that he is absolutely going to stick on his fridge.

Mercie leans back against the craft sink, carefully undoing her hair while Sylvain vacuums up as much glitter as possible—he will never get it _all_ , that’s just a law of glitter—and she hums carefully in that sweet way of hers and says, just loud enough he can hear over the vacuum, “You’ve been antsy today. Another fancy date coming up?”

Sylvain frowns for just a second, keeps vacuuming, and then clicks the power button with a sigh. “Nah, Mom’s still pissed about the last one. Probably won’t find anyone to foist on me for at least another two weeks. But hey, by then, maybe it won’t matter.” 

“Oh?” Mercie pulls the last clip from her hair and runs her fingers through the long strands with a smile.

“I might actually have found my soulmate, or at least someone who knows them.” Mercie’s smile grows as she claps her hands together, before she scoops up all of the clips and hair ties she had relieved herself of.

“That’s wonderful, Sylvain.”

“Sure, if I’m even half as lucky as you.” Mercie is a lot like him, with a pushy family who doesn’t particularly give a rat’s ass about soulmates so much as The Family Lineage, and she had been about this close to joining a convent before she’d bumped into her soulmate at a farmer’s market. Dedue is over six foot, hot as hell, and loves to cook; he’s like, the perfect man.

Mercedes just giggles at that and nods, because like, she can’t exactly deny she lucked out, but she’s still wishing him luck when they’re pulling their coats and phones and keys out of their lockers and finally going home for the day.

Sylvain doesn’t even hear her invite him for dinner—which, obviously, he would never turn down Dedue’s cooking or Mercie’s desserts—because he’s logged into his burner email and buried among all the junkmail there’s a message from Fantine1163.

+

Annette had really debated about sending an email to a complete stranger—who could very well be pranking her!—but it had just.

It had been too tempting.

She’s really, really curious about what kind of person Felix’s soulmate is. And, like, it’s obviously Felix! Felix, who is the only reason she even _has_ a soundcloud, always bugging her about her songs and being all encouraging, ugh.

It’s not like emailing this guy—if they even _are_ a guy and not just using some hot model guy as a profile pic—means she has to introduce him to Felix, or even tell him who Felix is! It’s just…

Annette has Questions.

**Totally Mysterious Swamp Beastie,**

**How do you know about those songs? I wrote them EXCLUSIVELY for my friend, are you some kind of hacker/doxxer spy because my dad is totally a cop!! If you’re not some kind of creep, and you really are like, soulmates. Listen to something weird to prove it!! I’ll ask and I’ll know!!**

**Fantine**

She looks back over the email she had sent, before reading the reply she had received.

**Most Suspicious And Wary Fantine,**

**Like I said, I’m pretty sure my soulmate is your biggest fan! Kind of hoping it’s that friend you wrote these EXCLUSIVES for, and you can tell your Totally A Cop dad that I’m super harmless. I found your soundcloud through reddit, and I can't even find where they put MS Paint on the new OS, let alone hack or doxx.**

**How weird are we talking, here? Like, something niche, or just plain out there?**

**Y’know if it’s easier for you, my number is 605-1160, you could just text me.**

**Ya Boi, Very Truthfully,**

**Sylvain**

Annette chews on her lip. It would definitely be easier and faster to text… and she could always block his number if he turns out to be a creep, right?

And she has _Questions_.

+

Sylvain has sent Fantine a selfie to prove he’s not catfishing, which was kind of adorable (like, he knows he’s hot, but the idea of someone using his picture is flattering and a little funny), and had complied with her request for a weird song “that isn’t on the radio” by pulling up a youtube vocaloid vid from his high school faves playlist. She’d seemed satisfied that he was telling the truth, and the minute she confirmed he really _was_ her friend’s soulmate, probably, she stopped treating him like a criminal and actually called him.

“Ok, ok,” she says, her voice high and sweet and very much fitting her profile picture, “tell me all about yourself.”

“Wait, you called _me_ ; maybe tell me something about my soulmate first, since you’re so sure now. What’re they like?”

“Ugh, ok, he’s—” she pauses, hums. Sylvain rolls that around, a _him_ , and that’s fine. Going to drive his parents apeshit, which is _also_ fine, and that puts a grin on his face he’s sure Fantine can hear.

“He got a name?”

“Felix,” she says, almost reluctantly, and a little muffled, like she has her hand over the receiver. Sylvain feels a little thrill in his gut at the thought that _maybe_ his soulmate is _right there_ on the other end of the phone, in the same room with Fantine. It carries him into his next question.

“Well, is _Felix_ hot?” There’s a choked noise on the other end of the line.

"I don't, ugh, I dunno! Maybe?"

"So, that's a no?"

"No, it's not a _no_ , I just." She sounds like the concept is utterly foreign to her, and Sylvain takes a tiny bit of pity on her—she hasn't realized he is teasing.

"Could you send a picture? Then I can judge for myself." She hums thoughtfully.

"Maybe. Gimme a sec."

She does better than a picture—she sends a _video_.

It's short and wobbly and it's definitely a creep shot; she walks into a room and the camera catches a guy on the couch with a game controller in his hands and a tuxedo cat sprawled half across the back of the couch and half across his shoulders. He has long, dark hair tied up in a haphazard bun and brown eyes that flick up towards the camera.

"What, Annie?" He's curt, but he doesn't sound annoyed, and Sylvain feels _something_ at the sound of him. Not lightning or some Grand Revelation, but definitely a little flutter in his gut.

"I just want a picture of Utena to show my friend!"

"Fine, just don't wake her up." His attention flicks back to the game (Sylvain recognizes, faintly, the Spyro soundtrack) and then Fantine (Annie?) turns towards the cat before the video ends.

"Well?" she asks after Sylvain has watched the video at least once (but really more like three times), and Sylvain thinks about the color of Felix's eyes and the curve of a dark bang across his forehead and the little thrill he'd felt at his voice.

He clears his throat. "Yeah, he's hot."

"Oh good," and she sounds relieved.

"Is his cat really named _Utena_?"

+

Ingrid is _trying_ to eat dinner when Sylvain slides into the seat across from her at their kitchen table, grin huge across his face.

“Ingrid, my dearest and most beloved friend,” he starts, and she sighs and sets her fork down.

“I have a skype date with Leonie in thirty minutes, and I don’t want to be stuffing my face the whole time, so make it quick, Sylvain.”

“I found him.” He does not elaborate. Ingrid does not ask for elaboration. 

...Sylvain elaborates.

“I found my soulmate! Pretty sure! Like, ninety-nine percent!” 

Huh.

“A guy?” He nods, grinning. “Your parents will love that.” He nods more vigorously, his grin spreading, and says nothing. “Ugh, Sylvain, just tell me about him already!”

Sylvain slides his phone across the table, a picture pulled up of a guy with dark hair and brown eyes and—”Wait, wait. Felix? Your soulmate is _Felix_?” 

“Ingrid what.” Sylvain’s voice is flat with surprise when she looks up at him. “How do you know Felix?”

“He’s Glenn’s brother, he has pictures of him all over his desk at work. And no, before you ask,” because he has his asking face on, “I will not sneak you said photos or pictures of said photos.”

“Ingy I can’t believe you’ve been holding out on me. All this time you’ve been hanging out with Glenn and you never mentioned his hot brother.” Ingrid wrinkles her nose.

“I’ve met him like twice and he’s basically a gremlin; I should have known you were soulmates, you’re perfect for each other.”

+

Oooh, Annette does _not_ want to do this.

Not because it’s a bad idea or anything, but because Felix is going to be mad at her and that’s the _worst_.

Felix mad at Annette is different than Felix mad at other people.

Felix mad at other people is glaring, swearing, biting sarcasm, and all around general asshole behavior. Felix mad at _Annette_ is icy cold shoulder, not giving her the sweets his coworkers keep sending him home with, and ignoring her links to cat videos.

Ugh, this is going to be worse than when she accidentally cut down his perfect peach tree in Animal Crossing.

So, she stacks the deck a little. 

When Felix gets home from work she’s dressed as cutely as possible, waiting in the kitchen with a perfectly seasoned steak (thank you, Dedue, for your infinite wisdom) ready to cook. Felix’s two weaknesses are cute things and well-cooked meat. Annette could only be more prepared to weather his wrath if she was also a cat, the thing which Felix is weakest against.

But Annette _isn’t_ a cat, so she works with what she has, and Felix is suspicious from the moment he sets eyes on her—or maybe he’s just worried that she’s cooking, because she has had a few accidents (small! inconsequential!) in the past.

“Heyyy, Felix!” Maybe a little too enthusiastic, because he narrows his eyes and stands in the kitchen doorway, arms slowly crossing.

“What did you do.”

“Whaaat, who says I did anything?” Annette laughs nervously.

“ _Annette_.”

“Ok I found your soulmate!” she blurts, and then she has to keep going while he’s still stunned and hasn’t recovered enough to storm off in a huff. “Or, well, he found me to find you, and he seems legit, and then I sent him your picture—”

“You _what—_ ”

“And he knows your brother! Or, like, his best friend works with Glenn and she recognized you and now uhhh. He wants to meet you. If you want.” By the end she is cringing and Felix is open-mouthed and blinking at her. “Sorry.”

Felix looks at her for a long moment before sighing and scrubbing a hand over his face. Then he moves into the kitchen and gently pushes her away from the steak and the stove.

“I’m cooking this, and while I do, you’re going to tell me _everything_ , Annette.”

+

A week-and-a-half later Felix sits in a cafe nursing a black coffee and waiting for Sylvain to show up.

He's got the whole story from Annette, and he's talked to Glenn about Sylvain, but that doesn't mean he's just going to meet this guy somewhere private. Felix isn't stupid, and he's not interested in some sappy soulmates rom-com scenario (no matter _what_ Annette thinks), so he's making Sylvain meet him here.

He turns his cup in his hands, wonders if this is a stupid idea. It _feels_ like a stupid idea.

Like, _yeah_ , the guy hunted Felix out, and he has ok taste in music, and he's smart or polite enough to fit himself around Felix's routine, and he's kinda hot (Sylvain has _way_ too many shirtless selfies on social media), but. _But_.

Before Felix can really start working himself into ditching the whole meeting, the soft and frankly bland music the cafe is playing almost seems to reverberate, and Felix looks up with a frown to see Sylvain standing just inside the door of the cafe, gaping at him.

It’s not like Annie’s stupid romance films; it’s worse.

Felix feels bolted to the spot, like he’s always been right here in this seat tethered to the earth, pinned in place by Sylvain’s stupid brown eyes, his stupid red hair, the stupid freckles across his nose and how he looks like an Autumn God and _oh fuck_ Felix is doing that _falling in love_ thing, isn’t he?

One of them blinks and thank _god_ it breaks the frozen deer thing they’ve both been doing, but it doesn’t make Felix feel any less odd, like the entire earth just shifted a tiny bit to the left. He shakes his head and blames it on the faintly doubled music from his ears and Sylvain’s brain and Sylvain’s ears and Felix’s brain and—

“Let’s talk outside,” Felix says, standing and grabbing his coffee, and Sylvain follows him out of the cafe still wordless. 

The lack of music makes it a little easier to think, but doesn’t shift things back to the right any. “Hi,” Sylvain says when Felix stops and turns to him, and he looks like he’s having the same world-shift and maybe, fuck, Felix _hopes_ , also the stupid _falling in love_ thing. 

“Hi.” This is dumb, this is _so_ stupid, how the hell do the romance movies make this look so _desirable_ , none of the stars ever stare stupidly dumbstruck at each other without knowing what to say. They always just fall into each other perfectly like puzzle pieces, and Felix is definitely going to tell Annie that the movies are all bullshit when he gets home.

Sylvain clears his throat, and _ugh_ Felix is staring at his stupid handsome face. “Did you, uh. Do you feel…?” Sylvain trails off, a hand at the back of his neck, and he looks… nervous? _Scared_ , he looks scared, Felix doesn’t really know him but he can _tell._ Sylvain looks like he’s expecting Felix to say no.

“Yeah,” he says instead, and the beaming _relief_ on Sylvain’s face sends a creeping heat up Felix’s neck and cheeks and ears.

“God, you’re even prettier in person,” Sylvain says, like he’s surprised by it, and Felix has to agree that _yeah_ , Sylvain’s billion shirtless selfies didn’t do him justice.

Still.

“You really _are_ a huge flirt, huh?” The word Glenn had used was _slut_ , but, there’s a damnable warm flutter high under his ribs that’s making Felix feel slightly charitable. Sylvain just laughs, and Felix is almost starting to get pissed at the whole situation because his insides just turned into mush at the warm rumble. 

“My bad reputation biting my ass, I guess. It’s uh, like, my parents are just really persistent and I’m kind of a catch, so.” He shrugs. “Gotten pretty good at scaring girls off by being a dick; the flirting helps.” Felix wants to be put off by him, but Sylvain’s not even being cocky about it, just sort of… resigned.

“Ok, next question, how many kids _do_ you have?” Sylvain blinks at him, and then a slow smile creeps its way across his gorgeous— _fuck—_ face.

“Nine.” Felix almost drops his coffee, and Sylvain laughs that warm syrup laugh again and wraps his big warm hands around Felix’s to steal his cup. “I teach preschool, Felix; I don’t have any _actual_ kids.” He looks far too pleased with himself, and that fucking snaps what little control Felix has left.

He snatches his coffee back, sets it atop a newspaper box on the curb, grabs Sylvain by the front of his sweater—rust colored, cable-knit, and doing him all sorts of favors—and hauls him into a kiss.

It's not like Annie’s stupid romance films; it’s better.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! 
> 
> Find me on Twitter [@AceMorningStar](https://twitter.com/AceMorningStar)


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